


same page, different books

by slowlight



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, pov switch in the middle if you can stand it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 11:23:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11554164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slowlight/pseuds/slowlight
Summary: Oikawa and Iwaizumi walk home from volleyball practice.orThings Oikawa doesn't know how to stop: humoring his fans; avoiding the subject; going, and going, and going.





	same page, different books

It's the usual process that brings them to the usual exchange on their way back from Aoba Johsai. _Good practice,_ Hajime would say, or maybe Oikawa. _We'll need to keep it up if we want a chance at nationals._ Oikawa making a face, and then, _Tell me something I don't know, like how to shut down all of Shiratorizawa's spikes for an entire match…_

"...or better yet, how to conveniently incapacitate Ushiwaka a day before the tournament starts! A fake all-expenses-paid trip to Mount Rishiri? Although we'd need a real train ticket… and if we threw in a complimentary crate of sports drinks…"

By the scheming glint in his eye, Oikawa's starting to get too into it. Hajime elbows him. "Don't be so petty. What are you, twelve?"

Oikawa recovers in record time. "Only on a scale of one to—" he considers. "— _thirteen."_

That, at least, is new. Hajime feels a smirk tugging at his mouth. "Finally learning to be humble? Oikawa Tooru? I never thought I'd see the day."

Oikawa sniffs in theatrical offense. "There's always room for improvement, Iwa-chan! Even I know that."

But something cracks in Oikawa's voice, the accompanying flourish of his hand a shade too meticulous. In another swing of their volleyball bags, all levity drains from Hajime's train of thought. 

He knows these things: the hours Oikawa's spent tearing down and rebuilding himself to stand on level ground with the Ushijimas and Kageyamas of the world; shaking fists crumpling soaked fabric, warm for all the chill of inadequacy in his bones; extended practices that stretch precariously into the evening; chewed lips; forgotten schoolwork. It's not the time or place, but Hajime hears himself muttering anyway, like some certified killjoy, "More like that's _all_ you know." 

Too late, he looks away in time to catch Oikawa's expression turn inscrutable out of the corner of his eye. Ah, fuck. Here it comes. 

"Iwa-chan—"

+

(Tooru carefully stretches his mouth upwards and to the sides, tilts his head, takes a breath. They're familiar motions, comforting in their wear. He's known a dire situation or two. He'd turn this around in one go.)

"—what's with that pissy face! You're being way too serious!" He hums. "Why don't we talk about something else? Yukari-chan from class two was kind enough to give me homemade _imagawayaki_ today, did you know?"

Iwaizumi squints at the abrupt change of topic. "Well, I do now, you conman. How long before you trip her up into confessing to your sorry ass and break her heart?"

"I would never! Yukari-chan is a treasured acquaintance of mine who happened to—"

"Get swept up in your act?" Iwaizumi's impatience is palpable. 

Now this is troublesome. In junior high, Tooru might have allowed annoyance to crease his face then. He might have allowed his fingers to curl and his eyes to blaze and his words to turn acerbic, cold, defensive. Now, he lets the accusation settle, and sighs up at the sky. At length, he tries again. 

"Do you ever wonder why I'm so popular with girls, Iwa-chan?"

"Because you indulge them beyond what you're actually capable of," Iwaizumi answers without hesitation, "until you're stuck forcing smiles and small talk to survive."

Tooru huffs. "It's because I'm _nice_ to them, _Bashō._ No need to go all poetic on me." He adjusts the strap of his gym bag so it lies flat on his shoulder. "And I know you like to think I'm just faking my way through everything, but—" He pauses, looks up and down the street before crossing—

"But what?"

Tooru walks on without continuing. 

"Oikawa!"

Iwaizumi jogs the last stretch of distance between them so their footsteps sync up again, brow furrowed in question. 

But Tooru's not sure how to explain this to blunt, no-nonsense Iwaizumi, how it's not faking so much as choosing to show people who don't need to know all his inner workings the parts of himself that will make everyone happier. That he doesn't mind getting held up by the occasional gaggle of classmates wanting a picture or two if it means they leave content rather than shunned. That he pulls every smile from somewhere genuine, even if it might not always be effortless to take the plunge. That he doesn't know what he'd do if he didn't, and that he doesn't know how to say all of this in a way that wouldn't leave him feeling stripped bare for voicing it. 

Perhaps he'd have the right words someday. 

Until then, turning to flick Iwaizumi on the nose would have to do. 

"Race you home!" Tooru says too loudly. "Loser finishes the other's tomatoes~!" The wind snatches away the ends of his words as he speeds off. 

"What—you—!" Iwaizumi splutters behind him. "Get back here, dumbass!"

Tooru's laughter _(not fake, just hard earned)_ rings out across the emptying streets. This is fine for now. His breath fogging up the air, their easy banter staying easy, even the elephant in the room remaining unacknowledged. Tooru's volleyball gear pounds a bruising rhythm against his leg, but Iwaizumi's only meters away from reaching tackling range, having taken the bait, however temporarily. Tooru counts this as a victory. 

(If, quietly, he wishes he'd learned to say what he was thinking when it counted the way his best friend could, instead of spending his adolescence twisting himself and his words beyond recognition, no one has to know.)

 _Sorry, Iwa-chan,_ he thinks. _You're going to have to wait for me to catch up._

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhhh wow this is so serious. i don't know how to feel about it. (looking around owlishly) where are all the jokes


End file.
